Disclaimer - Characters belong to Disney, for the most part.
"Bill's Boy"
Bill Turner knew within the first five minutes of his son's life.
Outside the closed door, ear pressed against the solid wood, Bill heard the first squalls of the babe. To him, the mewlings of his child more resembled those of feral alley cat in heat than an infant. To say the least, this thought was none too comforting, and he knew he had to observe it firsthand.
Tentatively, he opened the door and stole into their room. Kate was sleeping heavily, but the midwife was hunched over the metal laundry tub, which had been set on the foot of the bed. He could hear the sounds of wetness, water splashing gently and a sponge being squeezed, but a sudden anxiousness had overtaken Bill, and he couldn't force himself to get closer and see what she was doing. In any case, the midwife was a hefty woman, and he couldn't see around her from his spot near the door.
"Be a moment," the woman mumbled without looking around, having heard the door creak.
He nodded dumbly and watched as she reached for a clean piece of undyed fabric and fiddle around with it in front of herself. With a sigh, she turned to him, and held out a small bundle. When he didn't reach for it, she shoved it into his arms.
"A son, ye've got yerself."
The babe seemed unnaturally tiny and, though clean, his face was slightly misshapen from his trip through the birth canal. His skin was terribly flushed, and the thatch of dark hair atop his head was slicked by the bath into tufts, but when he stared up at his father with weary, fathomless eyes, Bill couldn't think of a sight more beautiful.
"When yer lass awakens, ye..." the midwife went on, but Bill heard not a word.
He gazed steadily down at his son, heart already lost completely, and knew he wanted to give him the world. But ah, the world was not his to give, not working the merchant ships that sailed the bleak miles of sea between London and the Continent. The world could not fit in this cramped room.
No, but there was another way, another life open to a man not afraid of hard work and with strong, sharp eyes. It was a life not often followed by good men, yet Bill could not fear such a fact, not for the sake of this wee miracle he held.
Bill knew he'd go down to the docks and see what he could find just as soon as he could bear to put the child down.
The babe yawned endearingly and settled to sleep in protective arms, never to realize that already his father was saying goodbye.
^Fin^
"Bill's Boy"
Bill Turner knew within the first five minutes of his son's life.
Outside the closed door, ear pressed against the solid wood, Bill heard the first squalls of the babe. To him, the mewlings of his child more resembled those of feral alley cat in heat than an infant. To say the least, this thought was none too comforting, and he knew he had to observe it firsthand.
Tentatively, he opened the door and stole into their room. Kate was sleeping heavily, but the midwife was hunched over the metal laundry tub, which had been set on the foot of the bed. He could hear the sounds of wetness, water splashing gently and a sponge being squeezed, but a sudden anxiousness had overtaken Bill, and he couldn't force himself to get closer and see what she was doing. In any case, the midwife was a hefty woman, and he couldn't see around her from his spot near the door.
"Be a moment," the woman mumbled without looking around, having heard the door creak.
He nodded dumbly and watched as she reached for a clean piece of undyed fabric and fiddle around with it in front of herself. With a sigh, she turned to him, and held out a small bundle. When he didn't reach for it, she shoved it into his arms.
"A son, ye've got yerself."
The babe seemed unnaturally tiny and, though clean, his face was slightly misshapen from his trip through the birth canal. His skin was terribly flushed, and the thatch of dark hair atop his head was slicked by the bath into tufts, but when he stared up at his father with weary, fathomless eyes, Bill couldn't think of a sight more beautiful.
"When yer lass awakens, ye..." the midwife went on, but Bill heard not a word.
He gazed steadily down at his son, heart already lost completely, and knew he wanted to give him the world. But ah, the world was not his to give, not working the merchant ships that sailed the bleak miles of sea between London and the Continent. The world could not fit in this cramped room.
No, but there was another way, another life open to a man not afraid of hard work and with strong, sharp eyes. It was a life not often followed by good men, yet Bill could not fear such a fact, not for the sake of this wee miracle he held.
Bill knew he'd go down to the docks and see what he could find just as soon as he could bear to put the child down.
The babe yawned endearingly and settled to sleep in protective arms, never to realize that already his father was saying goodbye.
^Fin^
